She tasted so sweet, her skin smelling faintly of cherries. Of course. Cherries are sexy. They’re lipstick red. Lingerie red.
“Oh God,” she whispered.
I lavished the same attention on her other cheek, inhaling the scent of her arousal. Salty and sexy.
I couldn’t wait to taste her.
I rose and dipped my hand between her legs.
She gasped, then pressed her lips together, like she was holding in sounds.
I slid one finger across the most slippery, perfect flesh I’d ever felt. She shivered, but still stayed quiet.
That wouldn’t do. I had to help her through her nerves.
I dropped the dirty, rough tone I’d been using. “Nina, are you afraid to make a sound?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered, sounding fearful. “I’ve never done this. Except in my head.”
I bent over Nina, pressed my cheek to hers, gentle in my question. “Do you want me to stop?”
“God, no. It’s just . . .”
“Just what, baby?”
She squeezed her eyes shut, shuddering, but not from pleasure—from worry. “Adam . . . what if I’m too loud? What if the sounds I make are ridiculous?”
I chuckled softly and kissed her cheek. “I assure you, Nina, the sounds you make are going to be so goddamn sexy, they’ll only make me harder. Want to know how I know?”
“Yes,” she said softly, her body relaxing again.
I reached for her bound wrists, raised her arms, and spun her around. Guiding her hands to my jeans, I rubbed her palms over the outline of my erection. “Believe me now?”
She was quiet at first, her expression hard to read. Then her lips curved into a naughty grin. “I believe you, and I believe in your eight inches.”
I shook my head in admiration. “You naughty, sexy woman. Now let’s get you back where you belong.” I returned her to the position she’d been in, still me, still in my regular voice. “Tell me what you want. Do you want to scream? Do you want to moan? Do you want to cry out?”
“I do,” she said in a whisper. “I want all that.”
She was ready now; she had the reassurance. Rough again, husky again, I gave her a command. “Then do it. I want all your sounds, all your pleasure, all your ecstasy,” I said, then slid one arm up her body and into her hair. Gripping her gorgeous locks, I tugged, and she moaned instantly. “That’s right, dirty girl.” I pressed the outline of my erection against her bare ass, letting her feel what she did to me. “Your noises only arouse me. They only make me harder. Give them to me. Give them to me right now.”
Another needy moan was my reward.
My erection twitched, begging to be set free.
Not tonight.
Tonight was for her.
And for all her glorious wetness. With her ankles spread as far as they could go, I slid my other hand back between her legs.
I stroked, getting her ready, prepping her. The woman was so turned on, my fingers were coated in her in seconds as I played with her decadent center, sliding my fingertips between her lips, then rubbing that gorgeous swell. So hard, so insanely aroused.
She was a dream.
And my job was to deliver on her dream.
Part of me knew I should take her tenderly and go softly because this was all new to her. But another part knew I had to respect the woman’s wishes.
She didn’t want tender.
She’d made that damn clear.
But I was determined not to hurt her. I had to find the balance she might not even realize she needed. Had to help her feel safe, respected, before I pushed in the way she wanted.
I tested her first, dipping one finger inside.
So warm.
I tugged on her hair, pressed my lips to her neck, and whispered hotly, “Fuck my finger, dirty girl. Show me you want it.”
“I do. God, I want it so much,” she said, rocking back against me fast, furiously.
Yes, this was good. This was how she’d get ready. On her terms. Using my finger to get her sweet heat ready for more.
After a few minutes, I was sure Nina could handle it.
And I bet she’d been taking it hard and good with vibrators for years. I bet she had drawerfuls of them, and I was confident, too, that she’d tell me all about her dirty little collection. That it was on the tip of her tongue, just waiting to be set free. I could do that for her. I could be the one she shared it all with. I was her safety zone for every after-dark thought. “Tell me something.”
“I’ll tell you anything,” she said, and I grinned. Yep, Nina wanted to be unlocked.
I had the key. I kept turning it. “Do you fuck yourself with toys, dirty girl?” I moved my finger faster, stroking her clit with another one.
“Yes. I did that last night.”
Lust tore through me like wildfire. The images flashed in front of my eyes. The awareness of what she’d done while I slept nearby. “When I was in the guest room, you were pleasuring yourself with a toy?”
“Yes. I used my rabbit. I like it hard and deep. So deep.”
Enough said.
She was good to go.
My virgin could handle what I had in store for her. I lowered my mouth to her neck, kissing her possessively as I added another finger, lust rocketing through every molecule in my body. “Were you on your back last night? Your legs spread nice and wide?” I asked as I thrust a third finger into her hot, tight center.
“No. I was on all fours.”
I nearly lost it. She masturbated on her hands and knees. Forget five thousand degrees. I was hotter. “I’m going to need to see that. Need to watch you do that. I’m going to watch you and come all over your beautiful back when you do that.”
She pulsed around my fingers, quivering, turning even wetter, even slicker. “Yes, do that. Watch me. Watch me and come on me. Come all over me,” she said, and her voice wasn’t her own. It was sensual and smoky while she chased her pleasure, pumping her pelvis against my fingers as I stroked her just as hard.
Just as ruthlessly.
Just the way she wanted it.
She was no longer nervous, no longer scared.
She was all in, and I was so damn glad she’d found her freedom.
We were perfectly in sync as I stroked, rubbing her clit, twisting my fingers in and out, searching and finding that spot—that wonderful X-marks-the-spot of euphoric pleasure.
“Yes, oh God, yes. I need to come. Please let me come.
Please, please, please.”
This woman. My God. She knew what she wanted. Knew what she had to have.
Her entire body shook as I tugged her hair and stroked her sweet center. “Ask me one more time,” I growled. “Ask like a good dirty girl.”
She moaned to the heavens. “Adam, please let me come. I’m begging you.”
I nipped her neck, my voice ragged against her skin. “Come all over my hand. Come like the good little virgin you are. Give it all to me.”
And she did.
Holy hell, she did.
She shuddered, and a wave of pleasure seemed to roll over her. And again, and again, and again.
Her lips parted in the most magnificent O as she cried out. Her sounds reached the ceiling. They reverberated throughout her home. They rang in my ears like the most gorgeous song I’d ever heard.
It was as if she’d never come before. Not like this. Not this hard. Not this intensely.
And I suspected she hadn’t.
When she came down minutes later, her eyes were glossy, her expression hazy. But she smiled then nibbled on her lip. I felt like a king.
That look on her face did something to my chest, like my heart was squeezing. I’d done that to her. I’d made her feel something she’d longed for. My friend. My wonderful, daring friend who’d trusted me with her most secret self.
“Did you like that, dirty girl?” I asked, my tone a little softer now, just me again.
She smiled, like she was still buzzed. “I loved it. I’ve
never felt anything like that before.” Then her shyness returned. An innocent little look as she cast her eyes down then back up. “Adam, that was my first. No one else has made me come but me.”
My chest glowed from that knowledge, and I liked it so much, probably more than I should have. I kissed her cheek, this time softly, but I couldn’t stop savoring the depth of this first.
I was the lucky recipient of Nina’s first climax with another person.
It was heady, a rush of both pleasure and something else too.
Something a little deeper.
Something I didn’t expect to feel.
Possession.
But I couldn’t linger on these unexpected feelings in my heart, because another organ had more pressing needs.
And so did Nina, who lifted her chin and asked, “Can I touch you now? Can I do the same to you? It’s number six, after all. Touching a man.”
A shudder racked my body, but it wasn’t just from my hedonistic side. Of course I wanted her to touch me. I wanted her hands all over my length, then her lips, her tongue, and her whole luscious mouth.
But it was the way she asked that nearly wrecked me. So sweet, so desperate. That sound did something to me. Hooked into me in a way that seemed dangerous. The more I let her take the reins, the greater the chance this exploration would become a give and take. And if it did, it would no longer be about her list. It’d become something else. And something else might be too risky.
We’d set rules for a reason; we’d erected boundaries because we had to.
I had to honor them. And part of honoring them was keeping the focus on her. Her list included touching a man for the first time, but it sure as hell didn’t include a handjob. It did, however, explicitly detail something else involving hands. My hand. I was a diligent teacher, and I planned to give my student what she’d asked for.
I ran a finger across her soft cheek. “Yes. You can touch me. And then we’ll do number seven. You can watch me jack myself till I come on your lips.”
Call it the number seven special.
Her brown eyes lit up with desire. “Yes.”
A minute later, I’d untied her hands, pulled up her pants, and unzipped my jeans. I freed my length from the confines of my boxer briefs.
She licked her lips when she saw my dick for the first time. I gripped my shaft, stroking it once, long and lingering, watching her eyes turn hazier with lust.
When I reached the tip, I said, “Get on your knees.”
She dropped to the floor.
“Give me your right hand.”
She lifted it, offering it to me. I took her hand, wrapping mine over hers as I brought her soft palm to my shaft. The second she touched me, her whole body seemed to melt. She pressed her lips together, like she was holding in some kind of sound of wonder, like she’d stepped outside after a winter’s worth of snow and experienced sunshine. Like she was soaking in warmth for the first time in ages.
“Adam,” she said in a heady whisper, her eyes wide.
I could feel my control slipping with the way she said my name. I had to remember who we were—in this moment, she couldn’t be Nina, my good friend. She was the woman who wanted to know how it felt to be dirty for the first time.
And dirty girls needed instructions from their teachers.
“Grip me harder,” I ordered.
She circled her hand tighter, making a fist, and a groan worked its way up my chest. To be touched like this, by someone taking her first trip to this country was so intense, so much sexier than I’d ever expected.
A wave of pleasure crashed over me as Nina caressed my throbbing length, stroking up and down. “You’re so hard, and the skin is so soft,” she said, whispering like she was in church.
The moment felt that way. Reverent.
But unholy, too, because of what I was about to do to her. The angels would look the other way and shield their eyes when they saw what was coming.
“One more stroke, dirty girl. That’s all you get,” I said.
“But you feel so good,” she pleaded, staring at my length, then looking into my eyes as she touched me, sending red-hot sparks through my body. “I love it,” she whispered under her breath, like she was confessing a secret.
My erection twitched in her hand because, hell, I loved it too.
Too much.
“That’s enough,” I said crisply. “Time for number seven. Just the way you want it. Put your hands behind your back, and watch me. Don’t take your eyes off me.”
“I won’t.”
With her like that, on her knees, gazing at me, I stroked my shaft, grateful for the relief. I was so wound up, so turned on from her coming, from her touching me, that it wouldn’t take long. But I needed a little something.
“Get my dick wet with your juices. Make it easier for me to jack off in front of you, like you want.”
Thrusting her hand inside her jeans and between her legs, she coated her fingers in the evidence of her climax. She reached for my erection, then spread her wetness along my length. The look in her irises as she touched me was one of wild thrill.
“Good. Now watch me. Don’t close your eyes at all.”
She wrapped her arms behind her back and didn’t look away.
With my fist curled tight, I stroked hard, fast, rough. Long thrusts and jerks as all the pent-up pleasure tore through me like a tsunami, taking me to the edge in mere minutes.
“Open your lips, sweet girl.”
She took orders like she took pictures. With precision and focus and passion. Her lips parted, and she waited for me to come on her lips.
My orgasm ripped through me, and I gave it all to her.
My greedy girl lapped me up like I was dessert, like she was famished and she intended to finish every last drop on her lips.
I shuddered, the aftershocks rocking through me in a blast of white-hot pleasure.
When I settled, I pulled up my jeans and told her to stay put, my voice softer now. “I’ll be right back, baby. I’m going to clean those gorgeous lips of yours.”
Shortly I returned from the guest room with a wet washcloth, wiped the come off her chin, then washed my hands. I set the cloth on the counter, making a mental note to toss it in the wash later. Obviously.
I reached for her, and she rose, those eyes wide and curious as she asked, “Was that good for you?”
I sighed happily, but sadly too. How could she think this night was anything but perfect?
I clasped her cheeks, speaking the full truth. “Tonight was in another realm. And there’s more where that came from.”
She shot me a small smile, still a little nervous, but a little eager too. “Good. I want more.”
“I’ll give you everything you want,” I said, and then I took something I wanted.
I wanted a good night kiss.
A tender kiss.
This time I was soft and gentle. She seemed to like it, trembling in my arms.
Trouble was, I liked it too.
I liked it beyond the boundaries of our deal.
Outside the rules.
I liked it because it was her. Her sweetness, her loveliness. Her soft kiss made my chest ache. It was full of everything that made this woman my close friend—trust and compatibility.
And that was dangerous for the rules of our engagement.
Time to shove all these unwarranted emotions out of my head.
I scooped her up, took her to her room, and set her on the bed. I tucked a finger under her chin. “I’ll see you in the morning, and I’ll make your favorite breakfast,” I said, because that would reset us. That was what we did. I cooked for her, and we talked about anything and everything.
That was us—our friendship.
And I needed to recalibrate.
She lifted her chin and looked at me sweetly, so damn sweetly. “Good night, Adam.”
“Good night, Nina,” I said, fighting the wish to stay.
I went to my bed, stripped to nothing, and slid under
the covers. I rated this night an A, but even with top marks, sleep didn’t come easily. My brain whirred with too many thoughts. Thoughts and ideas I was wildly unprepared for.
But I still had questions. Or rather, I had one. In the morning, though, I’d ask her.
9
Nina
Even the shower felt new.
The hot water streaming over my skin was a fresh sensation.
Like I was feeling it for the first time.
I raised my face to the spray, letting it cascade over my cheeks, my shoulders, my belly.
The water traveled down my skin, like it was forging a new path over a new person.
This was crazy.
I was still me. Still irreverent, passionate, introspective me, the woman who loved watching the world go by through her lens, the person who craved facts and information, the friend who was there in a heartbeat when needed.
I was still that woman, wasn’t I? I was still a businessperson, a neighbor, a friend.
But I was someone else now too.
Someone who knew.
Someone who knew sensations, desires, firsthand, with another person.
I didn’t know much. I barely knew a few things about the way bodies tangled together, and how touch could turn to more.
But I’d started to explore that land. I’d pushed open the door to a secret club last night and sneaked inside. The club of mutual pleasure.
I’d been giving myself orgasms for years. The landscape of my nightstand bureau was mapped with mountains of vibrators, hills of batteries, and valleys of late-night fantasies. My Amazon account was privy to my personal habits—how many toys I obtained every year, how frequently I replaced them. I had quite the impressive collection.
But none of my toys had given me what Adam gave me.
Freedom from my own hands.
Freedom to let go. To surrender to another’s touch. To the things I’d craved most.
Adam gave me the chance to give in to pleasure, to turn the keys over to another person. And it was wondrous.
As I remembered his filthy words, his firm commands, and his adherence to my written wishes, a hot shiver raced through me, but it was chased by something else.
The Virgin Gift Page 5